A Mountain View
by Undomiel-Estel
Summary: The night of Aragorns wedding to Arwen and his thoughts on his wife


Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just play in their world.  
  
It has been hours since the sun disappeared behind the western mountains. Staring out into the night, I listen to the sounds of laughter and celebrating emanating from the 6 levels below me. Though long the day has been, the people of Gondor keep Minas Tirith awake in mirth and merriment . After all, it is not everyday that their King takes a bride, and such an event requires long and heavy celebration.  
  
Staring at those giants of stone, I find myself drifting from reality, so caught up am I in my musings and remembrance of this night's events. So caught up am I that I fail to notice the soft footsteps treading up behind me. It is a surprise to me when Arwen makes her presence known to me. Years of living as a ranger should have made me aware of her behind me, but in truth she is so much in my thoughts that I do not sense her in the present. It is by the touch of her hand, cool and delicate, that she garners my attention. I turn from the archway and face her, astounded that this beautiful creature has bound herself to me this day.  
  
I am aware of her speaking. The soft Sindarin echoing slightly in the large archway lulls me. So peaceful is her voice that I could sleep right here, comfortable upon the cold stone slabs of the floor just as long as she keeps speaking. I watch her petal lips move and the blue of her eyes is enough to intoxicate a sober man. I know I should be paying attention to her words, but I find myself falling into her essence.  
  
The pale green of her gown glitters in the moonlight. The emerald diadems of her circlet sparkle, but in comparison to her eyes, they are but cheap stones. Her raven hair smells of Lilac and thistle, and a soft breeze lifts the curls gently into the air. She appears just as she did in my earliest memory. That night in Lorien, under the stars and clouds, when I spied Luthien herself walking beneath the birch and petals. She did not know of my feelings then, but now there is no denying that she holds my heart. It would only take but for her to ask me to lay down my life for her, and I would in a heartbeat.  
  
Her words slowly enter my mind, and I tear myself from my reverie and listen as she speaks: "The mountains shall be there at day's break my love, but your guests are here now, along with a wife who would have her husband at her side. Leave your heavy thoughts with the Amon, Mellon-nin."*  
  
The newly crowned queen of Gondor is not a selfish woman, but hard years have passed and now is a time for joy. It is her intention to bridge the lost years between she and I, and if it means not leaving my side once, she is more than willing to see this intention through. Indeed, the thought of her constant companionship is enthralling, and of more enticing nature than recently departed fellowships. So it is with a growl and a grab that I enfold Arwen in my arms and lift her from the ground. I have intentions of spending time with our friends and allies, but now is not the time for such gatherings.  
  
Light-footed I make my way down the grand Tower Hall of the Palace, towards the sound of well-wishers, friends, and revelers. Though she wonders of my intentions, my wife wraps her arms 'round my neck, and watches in quiet questioning of my actions. The sentries see my approaching form, and pull at the doors of the great hall of my fathers. Light spills from the room and into the adjoining hall, and from my vantage I can see a festivity unrivaled in it's grandeur.  
  
Upon my entrance to the Tower hall, all laughter, drunken singing and dancing halts. Out of respect for their King and Queen, the inhabitants bow and cheer, and a nod from my head acknowledges them all. Arwen, for her part, despite a slight struggle, remains firmly held in my arms, pink- cheeked and stone-faced. Elves think themselves elegant and too good for such blatant displays of power, but I am King and as such may do as I wish and say what I choose, even if it means embarrassing my lady.  
  
"My friends, you have made this night an honor in that we have been blessed with such fine company and friends. The Queen and I thank you all, but in this late hour we deign to sleep. Indeed these months of late have been long, and the heart of me is weary and yearning for rest. We take leave of you now and hope that you should stay and revel in our stead. Tonight is a night unlike any other, and though tired I be, you should not cease your entertainment because of my absence. Drink, and be merry!"  
  
My eyes connect with those of Elrond, lord of Rivendell and father of the woman in my arms. A glint in his eye sparks a warning to be care for his daughter. In my heart I know of his apprehensions, but it is safe to say that he is not losing his daughter to an insensitive lover. A raised arm draws my attention to another elf, this one light as Elrond is dark. Legolas stands under an archway with the remaining fellowship. Frodo and Sam raise their steins in homage and wink mockingly. It is natural for a smile to grace my lips. Nodding, I turn and exit, carrying Arwen. Loud raucous cheering follows me as I retreat from the hall. Though it is no doubt that I desire rest, some of the more amorous minded of the wedding party know what it is I truly seek. Marriage to the Evenstar would create such a like-mindedness in others.  
  
Following the moonlight streaming through the large bay windows, I make my way through the Palace to the royal wing. Though long unused by the Kings of old, the Stewards of Gondor has maintained the wing's opulent beauty. Large velvet tapestries covered the stone walls, and murals of great battles of legends graced the walls. Tall statues of my forefathers stood as silent guards over Arwen and myself as I carried her through the wing into our room.  
  
A large balcony jetted out over Minas Tirith. From it's stone columns one could see the river of Anduin, brilliant and sparkling in the starry light. Lovingly, I allowed Arwen to move from my grasp. Watching her glide across the room reminds me of why I fought so hard and long. It was not for nothing that I risked my life time and again. Others fight for glory and power. I fought to save a love too great to die.  
  
Tears have not escaped Arwen's eyes since our reunion, but now I can see a solitary pale track running down her cheek. Concerned that I have somehow upset her with my early display of frivolity, I rush to her side and take her slender form into my arms.  
  
"What is wrong, Mellwain hiril-nin?"*  
  
"It is nothing, my lord. I cry not because I am saddened, but because I am happy. It has long been since I've felt the weight of this world lifted from my heart. Now we are together, and I am guilty of having doubted that we would be reunited. In my mind's eye I saw you safe and brave, but in my heart I harbored fears that the Valar would abandon you. I should not have doubted your abilities and strength, but in times of war one clings to faith as long as they can before all seems lost."  
  
Arwen looks at me, and in those blue eyes I see her suffering at my absence. Though my heart was always with her, I had to forge my own path as Isuldir's heir. The line of Kings could not die with me, and I do not regret the choices I have made. I regret only my inability to be close to those who needed me. Arwen's loneliness had proven to be too great a distraction, and for that I am inclined to feel guilty.  
  
"Never doubt our love and it's power, Undomiel. I would have returned to you at all costs. The only thing I shall ever yearn to see in this world is your face, for it has always been my one inspiration. Trust in that."  
  
"Ai, Estel. You speak prettily and it fills my heart with light. It pleases me to know I fill you with love." A slight stain has touched my love's cheeks at my admission. They flush pink and with a smile I take her chin into my hands and turn her eyes up to mine. This graceful woman, Elf by birth but mortal by choice, has shown me all the light in the world. Nothing can tear me from her side save death, but now is not the time for such thoughts.  
  
"Such time has passed since our last quiet moment. I am loathe to ruin it, but I do not deny that I feel a desire for more than just talking, elf- maid." I smile widely, knowing that though an Elf she be, Arwen is still new to the ways of man, especially their more primal endeavors. Quickly I snatch her back into my arms, swinging her through the warm night air and towards the large bed. Her eyes, I confess, could distract me from my favored plans. There is only one way to remedy that. I lay her upon the heavy quilts, and Kiss her deeply. She opens her mouth to me, and she tastes of honey and wild strawberries. Groaning, I pull her towards me, but I feel that in no way can I bring her close enough. Indeed, I could draw her into my body and I would still not be close enough.  
  
A quiet moan rises from her throat. She does not see or feel the reaction this has on me. I feel as though I am standing beside a raging fire, unable to pull away from it's heat and intensity, but in all likelihood, I would not run from it if I could. I end the kiss and lay beside her. She smiles, and her lips are full and her voice is husky and low.  
  
"My lord, you stop?"  
  
"Too long have we waited for this night. I wish to be slow, but you are making it difficult for me to keep my wits about me."  
  
"Estel, on this night your wits should be of little concern. I am your wife, and as such you may do with me as you desire. I promise you I shall not complain." A wink of her eyes enforces her lusty inclination, and her slender hand creeps forth to draw me back to her side.  
  
In my mind I sense a challenge, and were I not a gentleman, I might be inclined to rush such pleasant activities. But this is my wife. I have loved this woman all my life, and beasts from the depths of Mordor could not make me ruin this for her.  
  
We spend what seems an eternity just kissing and joining arms. I can tell from her body that should I choose to do so, I could take her now. The desire to do so urges me to kiss her harder, and it is not long before I am trailing kisses down her throat to the shoulder. I suddenly need to free her from the restricting confines of her wedding gown. Beautiful as she is at this moment, I desire to see her in her truest form.  
  
"Arwen, undress for me." I plead with my eyes, and with a trace of my jawline, she complies. Leaving my side to move from the bed, she stands over me now, her hands slowly drawing the velvet of her gown from her shoulders. The heavy material falls to the floor with a rustling sound, and before me she stands in all her glory. She is more than I could have ever imagined, and I confess, many a night I dreamed of what she looked like beneath those luxurious robes.  
  
I rise from the bed, and with heavy hands I reach out. Her skin is silk, translucent and fine. I wonder how she shall react to my rough touch. I cannot imagine the feel of a ranger's hand would be pleasurable. Instead, Arwen's eyes close, and her head falls back to expose the milky white expanse of her neck. With the quickness of a wolf I have pounched and she is back in my tight grasp. Her breasts press against my clothed chest, and her shallow breathing is no longer that of an modest Elf's. She is all woman now, and no doubt silently begging to feel my naked skin on her own. Releasing her for but a moment, I rip my tunic over my head and cast it to the floor to join her own disheveled gown.  
  
"Estel, this is too much. I could die from this."  
  
"This is but only the beginning, Mellon-nin. By the end of this night, I promise that you shall touch the stars." Her eyes meet mine, and bed be damned, we fall to the floor; the only thing separating us from the cold floor are our wedding clothes.  
  
Before I can start this game, Arwen has beat me to the punch. Somehow I am on my back, and she is trailing kisses down my chest and stomach. I have always understood that Elves see making love as a natural act, so it is of no surprise to me that Arwen know the rules of the game. I had not counted on her knowing exactly how to play, however.  
  
And than, just like that, all thought is out of my mind. There is nothing but the feel of her lips on me, tasting and teasing. I try to keep myself in check, but I must admit I am finding it difficult. My senses are heightened and she could ask anything of me right now and I would give it to her. She knows she is testing me, but I would have her continue until the pleasure is too much. I have always enjoyed the frenzy of the hunt, and this shall prove to be no exception.  
  
I pull away from her ministration, and she looks at me questioningly. I stand up from the floor and look down at the Queen of Gondor, red-faced and panting, and smile suggestively. Arwen watches me as I cross the room to tall vase full of Nephradil. Taking one of the long stemmed blooms, I return to my wife and sit beside her sprawled figure. Drawing the flower along her jaw, she closes her eyes and sighs. I drag the petals across her lips and replace the bloom with my own lips. Kissing her, I run the flower down her neck and chest, along her sides and down across her stomach. Arching her back against the slight caress, she moans aloud and wraps her arms around my neck. Dropping the flower, I return to her body my hand. Her stomach is flat and like satin, and she quivers beneath my touch.  
  
"Aragorn", she murmurs into my mouth, aware of nothing but my hand. Sensing her need, I search out her most sacred of spots. Pressing lightly against her mound, I feel wetness and am rewarded with a groan. Her body reacts of it's own nature, and she arches into my hand, begging for more. Desperate to meet her needs, I caress her folds. Arwen has never known such physical pleasure, and it is my goal to show her what her body is capable of. I withdraw from her lips and make my way down her body. Indeed, the only thing we are aware of is each other, and so long have we waited that I am unsure of how much longer I can hold off.  
  
I pull my hand from her body and she reaches down to run her fingers through my hair. I look up at her momentarily, and the passion I see on her face compels me to continue. "My lord?", she questions. I place a finger over her lips and she quiets. She watches as I trail my hand back down over her body. No doubt she is memorizing the feel of my hand upon her stomach, but it is not soon after that she gasps and grabs my hair. I am kissing the inside of her thighs and move upwards to the place I shall soon enough call home. I taste her for the first time, and it is heaven. Arwen makes known her enjoyment of this game. Panting, she calls out to me, and I continue until I feel her shiver. Pulling back, I reach to the bed and pull down one of the fur coverlets. Covering us, I turn back to Arwen, and brush a curl from her forehead, now warm and lightly covered with sweat.  
  
"Shall I continue, my lady? Or does your modestly compel me behave more courteously?"  
  
Eyes closed, she reaches out for me. Pulling me down to whisper in my ear, she simply asks: "Echadmil enni."*  
It is all I require to hear. Sliding between her legs, I feel myself enter her slowly. A sound escapes the back of my throat, and I am sure that I shall die from this before the night is over.  
  
"Undomiel!" Her lands have locked at the base of my spine, and I can feel her body meeting my every thrust. She has learned quickly, and looking down on her face, I can see her throes competing with mine. From the rigidness of her body I sense that she is close, and her release shall spark my own. I myself am not far, and for a moment I am lost, unaware of anything other than this woman.  
  
Arwen cries out into the night, and were I am modest man, I might be concerned with passerby's hearing our pleasurable encounter. Instead I care not. I find that it is driving me onward, and in my loins I feel a fire I have never encountered. In my primal state, I find myself envisioning our children, and this urge for reproduction strikes a cord deep in my heart. Were I too impregnate Arwen this night, I would feel all the arenas of my life fulfilled. Spurred on by this primitive need, I force myself deeper into her body. For her part, Arwen takes my hand and guides it to her breast. I grasp it's fullness and suddenly she is shuddering beneath me. I feel her legs tighten around my middle and her fingernails dig into my back. Watching her climax and call out my name is enough for me, and quickly I find myself falling victim to her prowess. I release myself, and it is as though my spirit leaves my body and enters Arwens.  
  
Weak and exhausted, I collapse on to my wife. Mindful of my weight on her, I attempt to move my person, but her legs keep me in place. Resting my head on her shoulder, I sigh happily as she brushes hair from my eyes.  
  
"Does my beard not tickle your skin?", I ask lazily.  
  
"Nay. It is pleasurable. It keeps me from sleeping and escaping this moment. It keeps me in the here and now."  
  
"A truly great place to stay", I venture, though I feel sleep quickly creeping into my tired bones.  
  
Arwen is aware of my exhaustion, and kisses my forehead while pondering.  
  
"My love, long have your days been of late. I see the need for rest in your eyes, so I implore you, sleep."  
  
I go to remove myself from her but she holds me in place, her eyes smiling and loving. I obey and rest once more upon her, her body warm and soft and better than any bed I've yet to grace.  
  
"I weigh more than your body can stand. After a time you shall beg me to move.", I joke.  
  
"I think not Estel. You have left your thoughts with the Mountains this night, but I see it only fit that your body remains here with mine."  
  
I look up inot her face and raise myself on one elbow.  
  
"What makes you think my thoughts dwell anywhere but here?"  
  
"I saw your yearning earlier. It is understandable. Gondor is in your blood, and you have been separated from it's splendor for too long. A son of the west always desires it's sights, especially if he commands them."  
  
I lightly kiss her mouth, quieting her speech. "Truth be told, Undomiel, my toughts were of you. I am happy to be home, but my home is wherever your heart dwells. My kingdom cannot fill my heart in the way you do. You own this soul, and do not for a moment think that anything else in nature could steal your place."  
  
My wife smiles, and I resume kissing her. Though tired I be, I do not think much sleep shall be slept this night.  
  
Amon, Mellon-nin: Leave your heavy thoughts with the mountains, my love Mellwain hiril-nin: dearest lady Echadmil enni: make love to me 


End file.
